Esther 1:7-8

CRITICAL NOTES.]

Esther 1:7. Royal wine] A very costly wine, called the Chalybonian wine, that the Persian kings used to drink.

MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE PARAGRAPH. Esther 1:7

UNWISE LIBERALITY, BUT A WISE REGULATION

Here is liberality shown not merely by a warmth of feeling, or by a flow of well-expressed sentiments, but by the extent of its bestowals. No one could justly complain that Ahasuerus was of a niggardly turn of mind on this occasion. All was done on a large and generous scale, “according to the state of a king.” Costly vessels adorned the festive board, the rich Chalybonian wine foamed and sparkled in the golden tankards. There was no stint at this royal entertainment. The generous man commands our admiration, if not our esteem. And while we seek to show the unwisdom of this king’s course of proceeding, we do not refuse our meed of praise for the generous spirit which he displayed.

I. This monarch’s liberality was unwise, for it was an encouragement to drunkenness. According to Grecian information, an exceedingly large quantity of wine was drunk at Persian feasts. Now, if the king’s provision and the king’s decree were intended, or were calculated, to promote extensive drinking, and were a permission to each guest not to stint himself as to the amount of wine he drank, then it was not wise; for moderation is desirable, as all allow. Even strong drinkers admit the advantages of temperance. A certain king asked a philosopher how he was to behave himself, and the philosopher replied, “Remember always that you are a king.” This the inebriate cannot do, for alcohol, though it may quicken the imagination, enfeebles both the will, the memory, and the judgment. The drunkard is a slave, and not a king, though he sit on a Persian throne. No drunkard can inherit the kingdom of heaven. The rich wines of earth spoil the taste, so that the spirit cannot appreciate the richer wines of heaven.

II. This monarch’s liberality was unwise, even if it were not an encouragement to drunkenness. Alcohol is useless as an article of diet, and wines are drunk for the sake of the alcohol which they contain. Alcohol is treated as an alien in all its travels through the body, and no part welcomes it as a friend, or provides for it a home. If alcohol impairs the power of the physical system, if, further, it blunts the reason, prevents the critical faculty from exercising its fine power of drawing the line between the evil and the good, and lessens the authority of moral control, then surely it should not be received by him who is a self-denying practiser of that which is morally good; then surely the sincere follower of Christ should abstain.

III. This monarch’s liberality was unwise, even if it were an encouragement to merriment. The respectable drinker professes to take alcohol, not through the promptings of animalism, but for the sake of the genial excitement and the feeling of good fellowship it promotes. The feast is dull when alcohol does not furnish its exhilarating influence. It excites the intellect, promotes conversation, and gives a charm to existence, its advocates seem to declare. But the laughter engendered by alcohol is as the crackling of thorns under a pot. Yea, it is worse. The thorns crackle and expire without any unpleasant consequences, but this laughter crackles with a noise that is ominous of coming troubles. An even flow of pleasure, the product of the harmonious and healthy working of all the parts of a man’s nature, is more to be preferred than that undue excitement which produces a fearful relapse and a painful recoil.

IV. This monarch’s unwise liberality was in some measure atoned for by the wisdom of his regulation. The spirit of the regulation made by this Persian monarch may be brought out by the statement that every man was allowed to please himself. And this, so far, is wise. Let there be no forced drinking at the feast. We may go further, and say, Let the man be a teetotaller without asking unpleasant questions, and letting him feel that his course requires an apology. The social tyranny of the past has received a blow through the advance of temperance principles from which it will not recover; but we still feel too much of its power at our public feasts. Surely a man ought to be allowed to refuse wine in the same way as he would refuse any other article at the table.

Let wise men learn to abstain. Hooker says that “a greater good is to be chosen before a less.” Some men declare that it is good to take alcoholic beverages, but it is plainly proved that it is a greater good not to take; therefore let the not-taking be the purpose of every well-instructed nature. If we seek the preservation of bodily health we must not take. If reason is to rule, if the balance of the moral nature is to be preserved, if body, soul, and spirit are to be presented an acceptable and holy and living sacrifice to God by Christ Jesus, we must beware of alcoholic drinks; we must exercise wise and joyful restraints at all festive gatherings; we must recognize the truth that we are greater, and bow to greater things than that of allowing the soul to be slave of the body, the moral nature to be moulded by fashion, and the reason to be tyrannized over by foolish customs.

I. The drunkard’s excuses, by which he endeavours to defend or palliate his crime.

1. Good fellowship. But can friendship be founded on vice; especially on a vice which notoriously impairs the memory and the sense of obligation, leads to the betrayal of secrets, and stirs up strife and contention? Instead of promoting conversation, it destroys it by destroying the very capacity of communicating rational and agreeable thought. The drunkard may make his company merry, but they laugh at, not with him, and merely because they are delighted with the sight of one sillier than themselves.
2. It drowns care. But the drunkard’s care must arise either from the ill state of his health, the unfortunate position of his worldly affairs, or the stings of his guilty conscience; and, in either case, his temporary oblivion is purchased at the cost of an aggravation of the evils which cause him to desire it. To drink to drown remorse is especially absurd, for all that the drunkard can expect from this course is the benefit of travelling some part of the road to eternal misery with his eyes covered.
3. The drunkard has other excuses. He says that he is so exposed to care and business that he cannot avoid drinking to excess, or that he is of so easy and flexible a temper that he cannot resist the importunities of his friends, as he calls them. Thus he is for softening his vice into a sort of virtue, and calling that good nature which his creditor calls villany, and his family cruelty.

II. The drunkard’s woe. This is made up of the miserable effects, as well temporal as spiritual, of his favourite vice.

1. Poverty.
2. Contempt.
3. Ill health.
4. An untimely death. Consider, too, the spiritual evils that spring from and punish the vice of drunkenness.
1. The understanding is depraved and darkened.
2. The will is enfeebled and dethroned. The passions are inflamed and rendered ungovernable.
3. Regard for men, reverence for God, are destroyed. Drunkenness travels with a whole train of other vices, and requires the whole width of the broad way to give it room.—Clapham’s Selected Sermons.

SUGGESTIVE COMMENTS ON Esther 1:7

Here was no compulsion, either as to the measure or the quality of the draught: every man’s rule was his own choice. Who can but blush to see forced healths in Christian banquets, when the civility of many pagans commands liberty!—Bishop Hall.

The bounties of Providence are continual evidence of God’s tender care towards us, his undeserving creatures, and are to be thankfully and humbly received, and used piously and in moderation. They are given for the support of our nature, to enable us to glorify God in our bodies and our spirits; let us not then render ourselves incapable of doing so by drowning our rational powers in intoxicating liquors, and throwing our bodies out of health and comfort by a worse than beastly use of God’s mercies.—Hughes.

Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess; but be filled with the Spirit, speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, making melody in your heart to the Lord.—Paul, the Apostle.

There was no forcing of healths or urging of them; every man drank as he pleased; so that if there were any that drank to excess, it was their own fault. This caution of a heathen prince, even then when he would show his generosity, may shame many that are called Christians, that think they do not sufficiently show their good housekeeping nor bid their friends welcome unless they make them drunk, and, under pretence of sending the health round, send the sin round and death with it. There is a woe to them that do so; let them read it and tremble (Habakkuk 2:15). It is robbing men of their reason, their richest jewel, and making them fools, the greatest wrong that can be.—Matthew Henry.

“The man who would compel his fellows to wound their own souls, by sinning against God, must be viewed in no better light than a barbarian who puts a sword into their hands, and requires them to sheathe it in their own bowels.”
We are not told in the present passage that the king on this occasion exceptionally permitted moderation, especially to such of his guests as were, according to their ancestral customs, addicted to moderation, and who would else have been compelled to drink moderately; for the words with which this verse concludes, while they imply also a permission to each to drink as little as he chooses, are specially intended to allow every one to take much.—Berthau.

Esther 1:8. I. This shows the common sense of the king. He behaved much better in this matter than many who are known as gentlemen. Many are lost through being importuned to drink against their wish.

II. This would test the moral strength of the guests. Wise men will not eat and drink more than the laws of temperance allow. If any drank too much, it was his own fault; there was no compulsion. He could blame neither the king nor the law.

III. The tenth verse shows, however, that wine mastered the king. He would suffer no man to be compelled to drink to excess, yet set the example of excessive drinking. The law provided for moderation, but the king went beyond all that. In eating, drinking, and everything we do, let us remember the chief end of man.—Rev. C. Leach, F.G.S.

Drunkenness. Drunkenness is an abomination to God and a degradation to man. By this sin the creature which is inferior only to the angels makes himself lower than the brute.

I. See the peril of moderate drinking. It creates the appetite for drink. We have no natural taste for it; it increases as well as creates the appetite. Supply creates demand; it grows with what it feeds on. It gives the appetite entire control. The man becomes first a slave, then a victim.

II. See the madness of drunkenness. It beclouds the intellect, destroys the personality, and debases the image of God.

III. See the woes of drunkenness. There is the woe of physical consequences; there is the woe of a distracted mind; there is the woe of perverted powers; there is the woe of morel defects; and there is the woe of God’s malediction. This is written in both volumes of the Scripture.—Rev. C. Leach, F.G.S.

There is no homogeneity between alcohol and any part of man’s physical system. Tissue does not assimilate it; the blood cells are distorted in shape and imperfect in action through its pernicious influence; the nervous system is deranged, and the nerve centres are quickened to undue action, by its irritating power; the digestive processes are arrested by its precipitating properties; the liquor sanguinis flows with greater ease and purity when not impregnated with its subtle poison; animal heat is promoted by oleaginous substances, but ultimately lowered by the injurious action of alcohol; and the cerebrum can decide difficult questions with greater clearness, and the cerebellum can hold the reins of government with more perfect mastery, when alcohol does not disturb. Alcoholic drinks are injurious, for they impair the body’s power of resisting both the approaches of pestilence and the changes of climate. Life in God’s world must be preserved on God’s conditions of truth, sobriety, and industry. The man who takes alcoholic drinks in moderation may suppose that he will escape damage, but it is a delusion, for the man who drinks his daily drams will not only gradually but surely impair the physical nature, but have a blunted conscience, and a solution of continuity in the powers of ratiocination and memory. We cannot be unacquainted with their properties of producing a pharisaic self-complacency in certain classes.

According to the state of the king. For whom it was not unlawful to feast, so to show his liberality towards his peers and courtesy to his people. But that which was blameworthy in him was—

1. His vain-glory.
2. His prodigality.
3. His misspending of time,
4. His neglect of business.
5. His contempt of the true God, not once acknowledged by him or his guests. Lastly, their profane mirth and jollity, without the least note of sanctity or respect to God’s glory.—Trapp.

In abundance, according to the state of the king, according to the hand = power of the king, means that the great quantity did honour to the power of the king, or that it corresponded to the ability and riches of the king.—Lange.

The kingly character. The true king is the able man. Able he should be not only from the abundance of his material resources, and the advantages of his situation, but from the greatness of his moral nature. Every man who is morally able is a king. But this true kingship is only possible by virtue of spiritual alliance with the King Christ Jesus. He was the gloriously able Man. He has such a store of ability that he can make all his followers able.

I. It was not according to the state of a king

(1) to make a vain parade. The man conscious of his strength or of his wisdom need never and will never boast his powers. There will be fit occasion when he speaks of his ability. The sun shines without directing attention to his rays.

(2) To place temptation in the way of his subjects. Heaven’s King tempteth no man to evil; he seeketh to make all kingly. There is a royal benevolence in his nature and royal beneficence in his proceedings. The kingly are those who imitate this blessed pattern. This unkingly earth needs more kingly men of this true type.

(3) To be weak and capricious. Poor Ahasuerus was not an able man. He was like a poor reed tossed by the gusts of passion and the whirlwinds of caprice. He sat on a throne, but did not wield the sceptre of a firm will. He was himself governed.

II. It was according to the state of a king

(1) to be munificent. The hand of some kings is grasping. But the true conception of the kingly hand is to be open in order to spread blessings. The more munificent and the more kingly. Let there be large and unostentatious bestowals of material, intellectual, and moral wealth, and thus we shall be kingly.

(2) To work for moral elevation. Oh that kings would work for the moral as well as the material progress of the nations! Some do neither. They pauperize the nations in order to enrich themselves, and see not that the wealth of the people is the wealth of the people’s sovereign. The kings are few. We want an increase of moral kings who shall be king-creators. We need a larger royal race to throw broad-cast royal seed from which shall spring a goodly harvest of kingly men.

(3) To embody and manifest moral strength. That king will not do much in the way of moral elevation who is himself an example of immoral degradation. In order to lift others we must ourselves be lifted. In order to make others able we must ourselves be able. Strength imparted is strength increased. The greater number of kings we create and the more kingly we become. The more we enthrone others and the more splendid does our throne appear.

The common people are like tempered wax, whereon the vicious seal of greatness makes easy impression. It was a custom for young gentlemen in Athens to play on recorders; at length Alcibiades, seeing his blown cheeks in a glass, threw away his pipe, and they all followed him. Our gallants, instead of recorders, embrace scorching lust, staring pride, staggering drunkenness, till their souls are more blown than those Athenians’ cheeks. I would some Alcibiades would begin to throw away these vanities, and all the rest would follow him. Thus spreads example, like a stone thrown into a pond, that makes circle to beget circle, till it spread to the banks. Judas’s train soon took fire in the suspectless disciples; and Satan’s infections shoot through some great star the influence of damnation into the ear of the commonalty. Let the experience hereof make us fearful of examples.—Adams.

The drinking was according to the law; none did compel. The king had expressly appointed “that they should do according to every man’s pleasure.” Of course there is the question whether, if some man’s “pleasure” should take him beyond the bounds of temperance and propriety, any restraint would be put upon him? It seems as if there would be. The enforcement of that part of the rule, if it existed, was probably left with the “officers of the house.” The dangerous time was at the end of a feast, as we shall see. Meantime, it is enough to observe that there is to be no compulsion; the inebriating cup is not to be pressed on the unwilling guest. That custom apparently had been but too common among the Persians and their imitators. It is not entirely, however, in moral recoil that sanction is thus given in law to the better practice. There is a touch of political prudence in it. For here at the feast are princes from all parts, with their retainers and tribes. There are men here from the mountains who are famous for their temperance and for the strictness and simplicity of their manners. Such men, would not be won, but disgusted rather and alienated from the royal cause, by anything like Bacchanalian excess. In prudence, therefore, as well as from, possibly, higher motive, the principle of temperance must have the reinforcement of public law.

It is humiliating to remember that no long time has elapsed in this country since the very same objectionable and repulsive habit against which this public law of the Persians was directed, prevailed in some of the social circles of this country. It was a point of hospitality to press the bottle even on the unwilling guest. The generous host hardly felt that he had done his duty until his guests were reeling, and if some of them were under the table the triumph of his beneficence was complete. You might easily cull from the poets of the last century, both of England and Scotland, descriptions and allusions pointing to a state of things which, happily, has now passed away. This, indeed, is our reason for dwelling on such a subject—repulsive enough in itself—for even a few moments. It is always helpful to observe any signs of a real progress, and, undoubtedly, in the course of a generation or two, we have in this particular made very great progress. Within the whole sphere of what is called society, anything approaching compulsion would not be tolerated, and in fact is never attempted.
Whether we do not, on a wider scale, as a people in fact, and with the force of law, practise compulsion still, and that on the weakest and most helpless part of our people, is a very serious question, and one which, to say the least, we cannot answer with the same confidence. If places where drink is sold to the common people are multiplied much beyond the reasonable needs of the community; if exceptional privileges are given to the sellers; if their houses, with many exits and entrances, are planted in the most conspicuous spots; if they burn the brightest lights in the streets, and are allowed to keep open long after other trades and industries are closed and silent, does not all this and more of the same kind amount to a sort of compulsion to working-people, and trades-people, and thoughtless young people of both sexes? If the spirit of that old Persian law were expressed in our own legislation about drink, it would, as we cannot help feeling, be all the better for the morals and manners of our time, for the sobriety of the working-classes, and for the safety of the young. “Men are not made virtuous by Act of Parliament” has grown to be a kind of axiom on this and some other subjects; and many a one rides off on it, easily and gaily, as though he had performed some feat in logic. But the axiom is one which ought to be disputed. It is not broadly and roundly true. Indeed a part of it is untrue; for Acts of Parliament, when they are wise and suitable to the people for whom they are framed, do help, instrumentally, to make men virtuous. So Acts of Parliament, when they are unwise and evil, help, instrumentally, to make men vicious. When temptations and inducements to excess are made too strong for the feeble resistance they meet with, and made so partly by legislation, is it not clear that the State herself becomes a temptress, and to that extent does “compel”? She makes the law under which—in whatever way the responsibility may be shared—there are so many victims. She gathers the tax which intemperance pays to sustain her magnificence and power. She must therefore have some corresponding ability to promote goodness and morality in their exterior forms. She can refuse to tempt, or to sanction temptation. She can keep the path of virtue and obedience, as far as it is in her care, open. In one word, as we have it on the highest authority, she can be “the minister of God” to men “for good.”

So much we have thought it right to say in contravention of the dictum of the let-alone philosophy which is so much applied to this and some kindred subjects. But we cordially assent to the view that virtue and goodness in the deeper sense are first of all from above—from the Father of lights, from the untempted, untempting God, all-generous, ever-merciful—and then that in earthly form they are the result and product of the free action and mutual intercourse of human minds. Let the moral and intellectual power of the community, in its full force, come to the rescue. Direct conflict with evil can only take us a certain length even if it be successful. The inculcation and the production of goodness among our fellow-men will take us at once into illimitable fields, and set us on a pathway of progress unending. When we have large increase of knowledge among the people, some corresponding elevation of social sentiment, and some refinement of taste, and some improvement in the structure of houses, and amusements which are not corrupting and yet are really amusing—we may hope confidently to see the same process taking place among the masses of the people, in relation to temperance, which has been accomplished so largely among the higher classes. It is a vast and various problem. It is a long question. We can only do our own part by adopting sound principles, and, still more, by the uniform practice of moderation in all things, because we are of those who believe that “the Lord is at hand.” Whether we eat, therefore, or drink, or whatsoever we do, let us do all to his glory.—Raleigh.

MAIN HOMILETICS OF THE WHOLE CHAPTER

This book presents us with impressive views of man with and without grace; of the great instability of human affairs; of the sovereign power, justice, and faithfulness of the Supreme Being. We now call your attention to the first chapter.

I. The king of Persia at this time was Ahasuerus. Commentators differ about him. He was a heathen—a stranger to God—possessing extensive dominions. His was the second of the four great empires. These empires have come to nought; but, brethren, there is a kingdom which passeth not away. Its King will remain in heaven for ever. Let us be numbered among its subjects.

II. This mighty potentate, Ahasuerus, wished to make a display of his greatness: made a feast—the power of Media and Persia present—he exhibited his riches, and honour, and glory. Notice his pride. Beware of pride. Pray that you may habitually remember what you are—poor, fallen sinners.

III. At this feast, though a heathen one, moderation was observed. “And the drinking was according to law: none did compel.” Intemperance is an abomination and a degradation; hence we should flee from it.

IV. But though the feast of Ahasuerus was free from the disgrace of compelling the guests to proceed to drunkenness, yet did very evil consequences result from it. It is but seldom that such meetings are free from such consequences. We read of Belshazzar’s feast; we read of Herod’s feast. In such entertainments God is liable to be forgotten. Solomon, who with extraordinary diligence, and unparalleled success, had examined and tried the sources of all earthly gratification, tells us, in language which ought never to be out of remembrance, that “it is better to go to the house of mourning than the house of feasting.”

V. Let us consider the evil which was occasioned by the feast.—The king ordered the queen to be brought. She refused to come. The wrath of the king was kindled. The result was a council, then the divorcement of the queen. Quarrels, animosities, and heart-burnings are so contrary to that religion of love which a received gospel generates, that we ought to strive to the utmost for the preservation of the opposite virtues. Christ is the Prince of Peace; let us not only trust in his death for salvation, but imitate his meekness and lowliness of heart.

Two short remarks shall close this discourse:—

1. It behoveth us to lead excellent lives, and the higher we are placed in the community the more ought this to be the object of our ambition. Let our lives be continual sermons to those among whom we live.
2. It behoveth us to regard the duties which appertain to the relations of life in which we are placed. “Brethren, let every man wherein he is called, therein abide with God.”—Hughes.

I. The vast extent of the Persian empire. It comprehended all the countries from the river Indus on the east to the Mediterranean on the west; and from the Black Sea and Caspian in the north to the extreme south of Arabia, then called Ethiopia. This gigantic dominion was divided into 127 provinces or governments, each of which was placed under a satrap, or, in modern language, a pasha, who managed its affairs, and annually transmitted a certain sum as revenue to the king. The seat of government was variable, according to the season of the year, the summer months being spent by the court at Ecbatana, and the winter months at Susa, or, as it is called in this chapter, Shushan, the palace. The form of government in the East has from the earliest times been despotic, one man swaying the destinies of millions, and having under him a crowd of smaller despots, each in his more limited sphere oppressing the people subjected to his rule.

1. Despotism has its occasional fits of generosity and kindness. It is as kind-hearted that Ahasuerus is brought before you in the early part of this chapter. He was spending the winter months at Susa. The retinue of the monarch was vast, and the fountains and gardens were on a scale of grandeur which we cannot well conceive. There, then, the king, but little concerned about the welfare of his subjects, was spending his time, chiefly in selfish ease and unbounded revelry. To him it was of no moment how his people were oppressed by those whom he set over them; his sole concern was to enjoy his pleasures.
2. With all the luxury and temptation to self-indulgence, there was no compulsion employed to draw any one beyond the bounds of temperance. The law was good, but the king himself had too largely used the liberty, and hence his loss of self-control and all sense of propriety. When heated with wine he sent for Vashti, &c. Lessons suggested are—
(1) Extravagancies and follies into which men are betrayed by intemperance.
(2) That which dethrones reason and destroys intellect should surely be avoided.
(3) All the consequences which affect the man individually, and others also, rest upon the head of the transgressor.
(4) Intemperance (a) blots out distinction between right and wrong; (b) foments all the evil passions of the natural heart; (c) destroys the proper exercise of the power of the will; (d) and often inflicts grievous wounds upon the innocent, as the case of Vashti here already demonstrates.

(5) The necessity of guarding against these evils.

II. The evils which arose from the peculiar family arrangements of those countries. We take occasion here to observe two great evils:—

1. The condition of the female sex was that of degradation. The married woman was not really what the Divine institution intended her to be, the true companion and friend of her husband. She was kept in a state of seclusion, real freedom she knew not; she was, in truth, only a slave, having power to command some other slaves. She was without education, and generally unintelligent, frivolous, and heartless. She was guarded with zealous care, as if she had been very precious, but at the same time she was wholly dependent upon the caprices of her lord.
2. Yet, strangely enough, in the second place, it is to be noticed that, as if to afford evidence that the law of nature cannot be trampled upon with impunity, it very frequently happened that the female influence was felt by the despotic husband, so as to make him in reality the slave. Not conscious of it, but imagining that he held the place of absolute authority, he was himself governed; yet not through the power of real affection, but through the imbecile doting which constituted all that he knew of real affection. Common history abounds with illustrations of this fact, and in the sacred history we have examples of the same kind; David, Solomon, and Ahab are instances. There is never a violation of God’s righteous appointments, but it is followed by some penalty. From this Book of Esther, it appears very obviously that Ahasuerus, with all his caprices and his stern, imperious self-will, was at first completely under the influence of Vashti, as he afterwards came to be under that of Esther. The whole domestic system being unnaturally constructed, there was, of necessity, derangements in the conducting of it. The despot might be one day all tenderness and submission, and the next day he might, to gratify his humour, exact from his slaves what, a short time afterwards, he would have counted it absolutely wrong in himself to command, and punishable in them to do.

III. The degradation of Vashti. We have to look at the circumstances which are brought before us in the narrative. At a season when sound counsel could scarcely have been expected, and when he who sought it was not in a fit condition to profit by it, the serious question was proposed by the king, “What shall be done to Vashti?” &c. To defer the consideration of so grave a subject to a more fitting season would have been so clearly the path which a wise counsellor would have recommended, that we feel astonished that it was not at once suggested. But the wrath of the king was so strongly exhibited that his compliant advisers did not venture to contradict him. “Memucan answered,” &c. Now, with respect to this opinion of the chief counsellor, it may be observed that it was based upon a principle which in itself is unquestionably right, although there was a wrong application made of it. Rank and station, while they command a certain measure of respect, involve very deep responsibility. Fashions and maxims usually go downward from one class of society to another. Customs, adopted by the higher orders as their rule, gradually make their way until at length they pervade all ranks. Thus far Memucan spoke wisely, when he pointed to the example of the queen as that which would certainly have an influence, wherever it came to be known, throughout the empire. But the principle, in the present instance, was wrongly applied when it was made the ground of condemning the conduct of Vashti. The design was to make her appear guilty of an act of insubordination, which it was necessary for the king to punish, if he would promote the good of his subjects, whereas, in reality, she had upon her side all the authority of law and custom, and was to be made the victim both of the ungovernable wrath of the king, who was beside himself with wine, and also of flatterers who, to gratify him, would do wrong to the innocent. See here the danger of flattery.

Let us extract some practical lessons from our subject.

1. The inadequacy of all earthly good to make man truly happy. Surveying the whole scene portrayed in the early verses of this chapter, we might imagine that the sovereign who ruled over this empire, upon whose nod the interests of so many millions depended, and for whose pleasure the product of so many various climes could be gathered together, had surely all the elements of enjoyment at his command.… And yet we must say that the mightiest sovereign of his time, with 127 provinces subject to him, with princes serving him, and slaves kissing the dust at his feet, was not half so happy as the humblest individual here, who knows what is meant by the comforts of home, where he is in the midst of those who love him.
2. A few remarks may be offered upon the domestic question here settled by the king and his counsellors, as to the supremacy of man in his own house. How could they pronounce a sound judgment upon a question which their customs prevented them from rightly knowing?
3. We have in the text a law spoken of which changeth not. And, my friends, there is such a law, but it is not the law of the Medes and Persians, it is the law of the Eternal. Jehovah’s law changeth not. And what does it say? “This do and live.” “Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things written in the book of the law to do them.” That seals us all up under wrath. But we turn the page, and we read and see that “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness.” And is not this our conclusion, then—“I will flee from the curse of the immutable law, and shelter myself under the righteousness of Christ, which is also perfect and immutable, that through him and from him I may have mercy and eternal life”?—Dr. Davidson.

ILLUSTRATIONS TO CHAPTER 1

Power. Pompey boasted, that, with one stamp of his foot, he could rouse all Italy to arms; with one scratch of his pen, Ahasuerus could call to his assistance the forces of 127 provinces; but God, by one word of his mouth, one movement of his will, can summon the inhabitants of heaven, earth, and the undiscovered worlds to his aid, or bring new creatures into being to do his will.

Dignity. A French doctor once taunted Flechier, Bishop of Nismes, who had been a tallow-chandler in his youth, with the meanness of his origin; to which he replied, “If you had been born in the same condition that I was, you would still have been but a maker of candles.”

Great men. Columbus was the son of a weaver, and a weaver himself. Cervantes was a common soldier. Homer was the son of a small farmer. Demosthenes was the son of a cutler. Terence was a slave. Oliver Cromwell was the son of a London brewer. Howard was an apprentice to a grocer. Franklin was a journeyman printer, and son of a tallow-chandler and soap-boiler. Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Worcester, was the son of a linen-draper. Daniel Defoe was a hostler, and son of a butcher. Whitfield was the son of an innkeeper at Gloucester. Virgil was the son of a porter. Horace was the son of a shopkeeper. Shakespeare was the son of a woolstapler. Milton was the son of a money scrivener. Robert Burns was a ploughman in Ayrshire. Yet all these rose to eminence.

How to make a feast. “Lord Chief Justice Hall frequently invited his poor neighbours to dinner, and made them sit at table with himself. If any of them were sick, so that they could not come, he would send provisions to them warm from his table.”

Favour of God. It was the saying of a wise Roman, “I had rather have the esteem of the Emperor Augustus than his gifts;” for he was an honourable, understanding prince, and his favour very honourable. When Cyrus gave one of his friends a kiss, and another a wedge of gold, he that had the gold envied him that had the kiss as a greater expression of his favour. So the true Christian prefers the privilege of acceptance with God to the possession of any earthly comfort, for in the light of his countenance is life, and his favour is as the cloud of the latter rain.—Butler.

Pride of wealth. Alcibiades was one day boasting of his wealth and great estate, when Socrates placed a map before him, and asked him to find Attica. It was insignificant on the map; but he found it. “Now,” said the philosopher, “point out your own estate.” “It is too small to be distinguished in so little a space,” was the answer. “See, then!” said Socrates, “how much you are affected about an imperceptible point of land.”

Your bags of gold should be ballast in your vessel to keep her always steady, instead of being topsails to your masts to make your vessel giddy. Give me that distinguished person, who is rather pressed down under the weight of all his honours, than puffed up with the blast thereof. It has been observed by those who are experienced in the sport of angling, that the smallest fishes bite the fastest. Oh, how few great men do we find so much as nibbling at the gospel book.—Seeker.

Abuse of wealth. I am no advocate for meanness of private habitation. I would fain introduce into it all magnificence, care, and beauty, when they are possible; but I would not have that useless expense in unnoticed fineries or formalities—cornicing of ceilings, and graining of doors, and fringing of curtains, and thousands of such things—which have become foolishly and apathetically habitual.… I speak from experience: I know what it is to live in a cottage with a deal floor and roof, and a hearth of mica slate; I know it to be in many respects healthier and happier than living between a Turkey carpet and a gilded ceiling, beside a steel grate and polished fender. I do not say that such things have not their place and propriety; but I say this emphatically, that a tenth part of the expense which is sacrificed in domestic vanities, if not absolutely and meaninglessly lost in domestic comforts and encumbrances, would, if collectively afforded and wisely employed, build a marble church for every town in England.—Ruskin.

Danger. “A boy climbing among the Alps saw some flowers on the verge of a precipice, and sprang forward to get them. The guide shouted his warnings; but the heedless boy grasped the flowers, and fell a thousand feet upon the rocks below with them in his hand. It was a dear price for such frail things, but he is not the only victim of such folly.”

Danger of prosperity. When Crates threw his gold into the sea, he cried out, Ego perdam te, ne tu perdas me, that is, “I will destroy you, lest you should destroy me.” Thus, if the world be not put to death here, it will put us to death hereafter. Then we shall say, as Cardinal Wolsey, when discarded by his prince and abandoned to the fury of his enemies: “If I had served my God as faithfully as my king, he would not have thus forsaken me.” Poor man! all the perfumes on earth are unable to prevail over the stench of hell.—Secker.

In a long sunshine of outward prosperity, the dust of our inward corruptions is apt to fly about and lift itself up. Sanctified affliction, like seasonable rain, lays the dust, and softens the soul.—Salter.

When fire is put to green wood there comes out abundance of watery stuff that before appeared not; when the pond is empty, the mud, the filth, and toads come to light. The snow covers many a dunghill, so doth prosperity many a rotten heart. It is easy to wade in a warm bath, and every bird can sing in a sunshiny day. Hard weather tries what health we have; afflictions try what sap we have, what grace we have. Withered leaves soon fall off in windy weather, rotten boughs quickly break with heavy weights, &c.—Brooks.

Some of you glory in your shame, that you have drunk down your companions, and carried it away—the honour of a sponge or a tub, which can drink up or hold liquor as well as you.—Baxter.

We commend wine for the excellency of it; but if it could speak, as it can take away speech, it would complain that, by our abuse, both the excellencies are lost; for the excellent man doth so spoil the excellent wine, until the excellent wine hath spoiled the excellent man. Oh, that a man should take pleasure in that which makes him no man; that he should let a thief in at his mouth to steal away his wit; that for a little throat indulgence he should kill in himself both the first Adam—his reason, and even the second Adam—his regeneration, and so commit two murders at once.—Adams.

An earnest young minister was in the house of a rich friend. He was pressed to take wine, but refused. It was again pressed upon him. At length he yielded to their importunities, and drank a little. Gradually he formed a liking for wine, and at length began taking far too much. By degrees, and almost before he was aware of it, he became a drunkard. He was degraded from his office of the ministry, and sank lower and lower. Years after he had been pressed to drink by his rich friend, he came again to his door; this time to beg for a little food, and was ordered away as a drunken vagabond.
Joseph Ralston, of Philipsburg, Penn., met with a horrible death by freezing. He had been drinking freely, and had, while drunk, to wade the Moshandoo Creek; but, ere he proceeded two-thirds of the way, his limbs refused to perform their office. He grasped a bough of an overhanging tree, unable to advance farther; and soon the fast-congealing water cemented close about him—a tomb of ice which stretched from shore to shore. Two days after he was found there rigid as an icicle, his knees embedded in a sheet of the frozen element seven inches thick, his body inclined a little forwards, his hands clutching the boughs, eyes astare, and despair pictured on his features.—Pittsburgh Despatch.

God trieth men’s love to him by their keeping his commandments. It was the aggravation of the first sin that they would not deny so small a thing as the forbidden fruit, in obedience to God! And so it is of thine, that will not leave a forbidden cup for him. O miserable wretch! dost thou not know thou canst not be Christ’s disciple if thou forsake not all for him, and hate not even thy life in comparison of him, and wouldst die rather than forsake him? And thou like to lay down thy life for him, who wilt not leave a cup of drink for him? Canst thou burn at a stake for him, that canst not leave an alehouse, or vain company, or excess, for him? What a sentence of condemnation dost thou pass upon thyself!—Baxter.

Not in the day of thy drunkenness only dost thou undergo the harm of drunkenness, but also after that day. And as when a fever is passed by, the mischievous consequences of the fever remain, so also when drunkenness is passed, the disturbance of intoxication is whirling round both body and soul. And while the wretched body lies paralyzed, like the hull of a vessel after a shipwreck, the soul, yet more miserable than it, even when this is ended, stirs up the storm and kindles desire; and when one seems to be sober, then most of all is he mad, imagining to himself wine and casks, cups and goblets.—Chrysostom.

“If you have glutted yourselves with worldly pleasures, it is no wonder that you should find an unsavoury taste in spiritual delights. Doves that are already filled find cherries bitter.”—J. Lyth, D.D.

Bountiful King. The Lord, like a most bountiful king, will be angry if any man will ask a small thing at his hands; because he had rather give things of great worth than of small value. His goodness is infinite.—Powell.

Fulness of Christ. I have found it an interesting thing to stand at the edge of a noble rolling river, and to think, that although it has been flowing on for 6000 years, watering the fields, and slaking the thirst of a hundred generations, it shows no sign of waste or want. And when I have watched the rise of the sun as he shot above the crest of the mountain, or, in a sky draped with golden curtains, sprang up from his ocean bed, I have wondered to think that he has melted the snows of so many winters, and renewed the verdure of so many springs, and planted the flowers of so many summers, and ripened the golden harvest of so many autumns, and yet shines as brilliantly as ever; his eye not dim, nor his natural strength abated, nor his floods of lightness fail, for centuries of boundless profusion. Yet what are these but images of the fulness that is in Christ! Let that feed your hopes, and cheer your hearts, and brighten your faith, and send you away this day happy and rejoicing! For when judgment flames have licked up that flowing stream, and the light of that glorious sun shall be quenched in darkness, or veiled in the smoke of a burning world, the fulness of Christ shall flow on through eternity in the bliss of the redeemed. Blessed Saviour! Image of God! Divine Redeemer! In thy presence is fulness of joy; at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore. What thou hast gone to heaven to prepare, may we be called up at death to enjoy!—Dr. Guthrie.

Wife. “And now let us see whether the word ‘wife’ has not a lesson. It literally means a weaver. The wife is the person who weaves. Before our great cotton and cloth factories arose, one of the principal employments in every house was the fabrication of clothing: every family made its own. The wool was spun into threads by the girls, who were therefore called spinsters; the thread was woven into cloth by their mother, who, accordingly, was called the weaver, or the wife; and another remnant of this old truth we discover in the word ‘heirloom,’ applied to any old piece of furniture which has come down to us from our ancestors, and which, though it may be a chair or bed, shows that a loom was an important article in every house. Thus the word ‘wife’ means weaver; and, as Trench well remarks, ‘in the word itself is wrapped up a hint of earnest, indoor, stay-at-home occupation, as being fitted for her who bears the name.’ ”

Pleasures. The pleasures of the world surfeit with satisfying, while heavenly pleasures satisfy without surfeiting. The surfeited nature of the sensualist requires a constantly increasing stimulus to rouse his used-up powers, but with each advance in Christian enjoyment there is an increased power to appreciate heavenly joys. The pleasures of the world are like the kiss of Judas, given but to betray; the pleasures of heaven make the soul bright and beautiful, as when the face of Moses was transformed by the vision of God.—J. G. Pilkington.

Pleasures. Pleasures, like the rose, are sweet, but prickly; the honey doth not countervail the sting; all the world’s delights are vanity, and end in vexation; like Judas, while they kiss, they betray. I would neither be a stone nor an epicure; allow of no pleasure, nor give way to all; they are good sauce, but naught to make a meal of. I may use them sometimes for digestion, never for food.—Henshaw.

Price of pleasure. Goethe, in his “Faust,” introduces for his hero a student longing for the pleasures of knowledge. The devil appears, to seduce him from his pursuit; Faust is to have all possible sensual enjoyment in life, but is to pay for it by yielding his soul to the devil at last. At the end, Mephistopheles, jealous of his claim, appears and carries off his victim, the student’s lost soul.

Anger. I am naturally as irritable as any; but when I find anger, or passion, or any other evil temper, arise in my mind, immediately I go to my Redeemer, and, confessing my sins, I give myself up to be managed by him.—Clarke.

Anger subdued. Two good men on some occasion had a warm dispute; and remembering the exhortation of the Apostle, “Let not the sun go down upon your wrath,” just before sunset one of them went to the other, and knocking at the door, his offended friend came and opened it, and seeing who it was, started back in astonishment and surprise; the other, at the same time, cried out, “The sun is almost down.” This unexpected salutation softened the heart of his friend into affection, and he returned for answer, “Come in, brother, come in.” What a happy method of conciliating matters, of redressing grievances, and of reconciling brethren!—Arvine.

Hypocrisy. A very capital painter in London exhibited a piece representing a friar habited in his canonicals. View the painting at a distance, and you would think the friar to be in a praying attitude: his hands are clasped together and held horizontally to his breast, his eyes meekly demissed like those of the publican in the gospel: and the good man appears to be quite absorbed in humble adoration and devout recollection. But take a nearer survey, and the deception vanishes; the book which seemed to be before him is discovered to be a punch-bowl, into which the wretch is all the while in reality only squeezing a lemon. How lively a representation of a hypocrite!—Salter.

Idols. A man’s idol is not necessarily an image of gold; it may be a child of clay, the fruit of his own loins, or the wife of his bosom; it may be wealth, fame, position, success, or business—anything which absorbs unduly the affections and attention. Against all such the Almighty pronounces the decree: “Thou shalt have no other gods before me,” and hurls his resistless missiles of destruction. Either ourselves or our idols must be destroyed.

Idolatry! You cannot find any more gross, any more cruel, on the broad earth, than within the area of a mile around this pulpit. Dark minds, from which God is obscured; deluded souls, whose fetish is the dice-box or the bottle; apathetic spirits, steeped in sensual abomination, unmoved by a moral ripple, soaking in the swamp of animal vitality; false gods, more hideous, more awful than Moloch or Baal, worshipped with shrieks, worshipped with curses, with the hearthstone for the bloody altar, and the drunken husband for the immolating priest, and women and children for the victims.—Dr. Chapin.

Loss of time. We are doomed to suffer a bitter pang as often as the irrevocable flight of our time is brought home with keenness to our hearts. The spectacle of the lady floating over the sea in a boat, and waking suddenly from sleep to find her magnificent ropes of pearl necklace by some accident detached from its fastening at one end, the loose string hanging down into the water, and pearl after pearl slipping off for ever into the abyss, brings before us the sadness of the case. That particular pearl which at the very moment is rolling off into the unsearchable deep, carries its own separate reproach to the lady’s heart, but is more deeply reproachful as the representative of so many other uncounted pearls that have already been swallowed up irrecoverably while yet she was sleeping, of many, besides, that must follow before any remedy can be applied to what we may call this jewelly hemorrhage.

The intrepid judge. One of the favourites of Henry V., when Prince of Wales, having been indicted for some misdemeanour, was condemned, notwithstanding all the interest he could make in his favour, and the prince was so incensed at the issue of the trial that he struck the judge on the bench. The magistrate, whose name was Sir William Gascoigne, acted with a spirit becoming his character. He instantly ordered the prince to be committed to prison, and young Henry, sensible by this time of the insult he had offered to the laws of his country, suffered himself to be quietly conducted to jail by the officers of justice. The king, Henry IV., who was an excellent judge of mankind, was no sooner informed of this transaction, than he cried out in a transport of joy, “Happy is the king who has a magistrate possessed of courage to execute the laws, and still more happy in having a son who will submit to such chastisement.”—Arvine.

Flattery. The coin most current among mankind is flattery: the only benefit of which is, that, by hearing what we are not, we may learn what we ought to be.

Whitfield, when flattered, said, “Take care of fire: I carry powder about me.”
A flattering priest told Constantine the Great that his virtues deserved the empire of the world here, and to reign with the Son of God hereafter. The emperor cried, “Fie, fie, for shame; let me hear no more such unseemly speeches; but, rather, suppliantly pray to my Almighty Maker, that, in this life and the life to come, I may be reckoned worthy to be his servant.”

Excuses. He that does amiss never lacks excuse. Any excuse will serve when one has not a mind to do a thing. The archer that shoots ill has a lie ready. He that excuses himself accuses himself. A bad workman always complains of his tools.

Wicked counsel. A young man devoted himself to a religious life. His ungodly parents sent him many letters to dissuade him. Being fully decided to go on in his chosen course, when any letters came addressed to him he threw them into the fire at once, without opening them. When friends and kindred stand between us and Christ, they must be disregarded.

Sin. Sin is like the little serpent aspis, which stings men, whereby they fall into a pleasant sleep, and in that sleep die.—Swinnock.

Envy. We shall find it in Cain, the proto-murderer, who slew his brother at the instigation of envy. We shall find in the dark, and gloomy, and revengeful spirit of Saul, who, under the influence of envy, plotted for years the slaughter of David. We shall find it in the king of Israel, when he pined for the vineyard of Naboth, and shed his blood to gain it. Yes; it was envy that perpetrated that most atrocious crime ever planned in hell or executed on earth, on which the sun refused to look, and at which nature gave signs of abhorrence by the rending of the rocks—I mean the crucifixion of Christ, for the evangelist tells us that for envy the Jews delivered our Lord.—J. A. James.

The poets imagined that envy dwelt in a dark cave; being pale and lean-looking as guilt, abounding with gall, her teeth black, never rejoicing but in the misfortunes of others; ever unquiet and careful, and continually tormenting herself.—Wit.

Friendship. True friendship can only be made between true men. Hearts are the soul of honour. There can be no lasting friendship between bad men. Bad men may pretend to love each other; but their friendship is a rope of sand, which shall be broken at any convenient season. But if a man have a sincere heart within him, and be true and noble, then we may confide in him.—Spurgeon.

Ingratitude. A petted soldier of the Macedonian army was shipwrecked, and east upon the shore apparently lifeless. A hospitable Macedonian discovered him, revived him, took him to his home, and treated him in a princely manner, and, when he departed, gave him money for his journey. The rescued soldier expressed warm thanks, and promised royal bounty to his benefactor. Instead, when he came before Philip, he related his own misfortunes, and asked to be rewarded by the lands and house of his rescuer. His request was granted, and he returned, and drove out his former host. The latter hastened to lay the true state before the king; when he restored the land, and caused the soldier to be branded in the forehead, “The Ungrateful Guest,” as the reward of his baseness.

Conscience wakeful. Though in many men conscience sleeps in regard to motion, yet it never sleeps in regard to observation and notice. It may be hard and seared, it can never be blind. Like letters written with the juice of lemon, that which is written upon it, though seemingly invisible and illegible, when brought before the fire of God’s judgment, shall come forth clear and expressive.—M‘Cosh.

Guilty conscience. It gives a terrible form and a horrible voice to everything beautiful and musical without. Let Byron describe its anguish, for who felt it more than he?—

“The mind that broods o’er guilty woes
Is like the scorpion girt by fire;
In circle narrowing as it glows,
The flames around their captive close,
Till inly searched by thousand throes,
And maddening in her ire,
One sad and sole relief she knows—
The sting she nourished for her foes;
Whose venom never yet was vain,
Gives but one pang, and cures all pain,
And darts into her desperate brain;
So do the dark in soul expire,
Or live like scorpion girt with fire.
So writhes the mind remorse has riven,
Unfit for earth, undoomed for heaven,
Darkness above, despair beneath,
Around it flame, within it death.”

Forgiveness. As the prince or ruler only has power to forgive treason in his subjects, so God only has power to forgive sin. As no man can forgive a debt only the creditor to whom the debt is due, so God only can forgive us our debts, whose debtors we are to an incalculable amount. But we know that he is always ready to forgive. “He keeps mercy for thousands, and pardons iniquity, transgression, and sin.”

Forgiveness. In a school in Ireland, one boy struck another, and when he was about to be punished, the injured boy begged for his pardon. The master asked. “Why do you wish to keep him from being flogged?” The boy replied, “I have read in the New Testament that our Lord Jesus Christ said that we should forgive our enemies; and, therefore, I forgive him, and beg he may not be punished for my sake.”

At the present day the green turben which marks descent from Mahomet is often worn in the East by the very poor, and even by beggars. In our own history the glory of the once illustrious Plantagenets so completely waned, that the direct representative of Margaret Plantagenet, daughter and heiress of George, Duke of Clarence, followed the trade of a cobbler in Newport, Shropshire, in 1637. Among the lineal descendants of Edmund of Woodstock, sixth son of Edward I., and entitled to quarter the royal arms, were a village butcher and a keeper of a turnpike gate; and among the descendants of Thomas Plantagenet, Duke of Gloucester, fifth son of Edward III., was included the late sexton of a London church.—Geikie.